


Lucifer Picks a Fight

by katya1828



Series: My (un)Beloved Brother - Lucifer/Amenadiel one-shots (non-slash) [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Brother Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Brother Feels, Confused Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Faking injury, Gen, Hurt Lucifer, Light Masochism, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, M/M, Masochism, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Lucifer, Protective Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Violence, but he's denying everything, lucifer needs his big brother, masochist lucifer morningstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katya1828/pseuds/katya1828
Summary: Once again, pretty much what it says in the title. Lucifer decides he wants a fight with Amenadiel, with accompanying angst and (denial of) feelings.Inspired by Amenadiel's diminished powers in season 2 and then his fight with Pierce in season 3. The latter set me wondering if he could still give Lucifer a run for his money in a fight, despite the loss of his wings and strength (and I decided Lucifer might be wondering the same thing, and be as doubtful as I was.)
Relationships: Amenadiel & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Amenadiel/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: My (un)Beloved Brother - Lucifer/Amenadiel one-shots (non-slash) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618276
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	Lucifer Picks a Fight

**Author's Note:**

> This is screwed-up sibling feels rather than slash. I'm trying to get these two to have sex in another rather darker fic, but I'm three chapters in, and they're still refusing to play ball.. as it were ;)
> 
> Btw, if you read my Piercifer fic – thanks sooo much! The kind kudos you left fed my bunnies very nicely. There’s a follow up to that in the works, but I do love belligerent brothers and had to give these two some attention. As you might be gathering, though, I’m chiefly here to whump Lucifer, whoever he's with.
> 
> I’m new to the fandom and have only watched series 1-3 (once, at that) so forgive any slips, please. I'll get better! Self-betad, so sincere apologies for any typos. etc.

_“I’ve got your back, brother. This is my test. God has a plan. Blah, blah, blah, blah… ad nauseum.”_

Amenadiel was cluttering up Lucifer’s penthouse, halfway through another speech outlining his pathetic excuses for hanging around in Lucifer’s life, when Lucifer finally snapped.

Lucifer had downed a pint and a half of whisky. He’d slumped at the piano and toyed with the first few bars of Fleur de Lys before switching to some excessively noisy jazz. None of it drowned out Amenadiel’s blathering, or dampened Lucifer’s frustration with his not-quite-fallen-enough angel of a brother.

Amenadiel’s sheer uselessness these days pissed Lucifer off in ways that screwed him up way too much to dwell upon. So instead, he slammed down the piano lid, stalked across the room, and punched Amenadiel in the face.

Lucifer’s knuckles impacted Amenadiel’s jaw with a satisfying crunch. Amenadiel reeled with the blow, looking only mildly shocked. Lucifer, rage taking the lead, punched his brother again, harder, and the force knocked Amenadiel from his feet. He landed on his backside with an “Oof.”

Amenadiel rubbed his jaw and pushed himself onto his haunches. He frowned up at Lucifer, who towered menacingly over him.

“What was that for?” Amenadiel wiped blood from his nose, but his tone was measured, any anger tempered by… brotherly concern? An idiotic confusion? Lucifer couldn’t read the bastard, and wished he didn’t care enough for Amenadiel make him this mad.

“ _That_ , brother, was for being pointless!” If Lucifer’s eyes could’ve flashed red, they’d have been luminescent rubies by now. “You give me these speeches as if you’re going protect me from myself, as if you’re my saviour—as if you’re still the greatest warrior in the heavenly host. But you’re not. You’re useless, and I don’t even think it’s Dad’s doing. You just fell all by yourself to your natural level of drivelling pathetic-ness.”

“Just because I’ve lost many of my powers, doesn’t mean that my being here is without purpose—”

“The evidence suggests otherwise, dear brother. You don’t have my back. You couldn’t even protect Linda… or the Detective… if I wasn’t around for them. You’re completely worthless.”

Lucifer moved to kick his prone brother, not intending to put any real force behind it—but Amenadiel grabbed his leg, yanking it out from under him so that Lucifer crashed onto his side with a bruising crunch. A brief scramble later, and Lucifer’s brother was on top of him, Amenadiel using his weight advantage to pin Lucifer down. Lucifer assumed he could toss Amenadiel aside with very little effort, but instead he decided to _humour_ Amenadiel. Or rather, that was his best explanation for what happened next.

He struggled half-heartedly, gave Amenadiel a bitchy diva-style slap around the face, and then let his wrists be grabbed and his arms pinned above his head. He snarled, panting hard, breathing Amenadiel’s breath—the sobering scent of mild, milky coffee.

“Luci, what is this all about?” Even after all Lucifer’s provocation, his brother looked more like a peeved parent about to command him to sit on the naughty step than the greatest soldier in the cosmos. “I mean, really. Why are you so upset with me?”

“How many times do I have to explain? It’s like having ordered a pet tiger and being delivered an incontinent toothless old moggy. Not that I ever ordered or even bloody invited you here! I’ve a mind to ask the bouncers to throw you into the nearest stinking gutter, because I truly can’t be arsed to do it myself.”

The continued blows to Amenadiel’s ego were hitting home. His brows knitted, his expression darkening toward fury and maybe just a hint of that potent forcefulness Lucifer had… _missed_?

That horrifying notion pushed Lucifer back over the edge. He kneed Amenadiel in the balls and shoved him off. He then waited a good thirty seconds for Amenadiel to stop rolling around cringing in agony before Lucifer stripped off his jacket and assumed a boxing stance, fists raised.

“Come on then. Prove I’m wrong.” Lucifer’s tone cracked with trepidation—not because his brother was going to beat the shit out of him, but because he suddenly feared he was about to be proven right. That Amenadiel really couldn’t do a sodding thing to hurt him anymore.

“We don’t have to do this, Luci.” Even now, Lucifer could hear the conflict in Amenadiel’s smooth deep tones, as the instinct to fight was suppressed.

_Only because he can’t fight me. He’s going to lose, and then I can cast him out and give up on him forever._

“Yes, brother, we really, really do have to do this.”

Lucifer, hopeless now, threw the first punch. Amenadiel swerved and Lucifer missed, staggering forward. Amenadiel’s retaliating fist impacted Lucifer’s stomach with a spleen-rupturing power, and then the blows kept coming. Lucifer resisted with fists, knees, and head-butts, and a dozen crafty countermeasures, but Amenadiel never lost the upper hand. After being bounced off his shelves of liquor supplies one too many times—collateral damage that was always irritating—Lucifer found himself back pinned to the floor, his brother’s thick arm thrust chokingly tight under his chin. Blood filled Lucifer’s mouth as Amenadiel pummelled his face, one, two, three times… then Lucifer stopped all resistance, shut his battered eyes and voluntarily went limp.

Amenadiel stopped hitting Lucifer and shifted so his weight on top of Lucifer was no longer crushing. Lucifer felt a large palm cupping his jaw, disarmingly gentle, and a thumb stroked over the stubble on his cheek.

“Luci? Luci… are you with me? Are you okay?”

Lucifer let his brother wallow in concern as he snatched several shallow, wheezing breaths. He was punishing Amenadiel, naturally; he wasn’t playacting more injured than he was because he found Amenadiel’s touch, and his brother’s body on top of him, somehow reassuring.

No, he really, _really_ wasn’t.

He licked the blood from his lip and cracked open a swollen eyelid. “Well done! I honestly didn’t think you still had it in you.”

Amenadiel’s expression segued from worried to annoyed. He got up, wincing and working out a crick out of his shoulder, but still stretched a hand down to Lucifer. Magnanimously, Lucifer took it and let himself be pulled up. He swayed a second, and Amenadiel took his arm and steadied him. Lucifer grinned a no-doubt bloody grin.

“That really was the most pleasurable evening I’ve spent with you in sometime,” said Lucifer. “Drink?”

“I don’t think so,” says Amenadiel, guiding Lucifer to the nearest leather-clad easy chair and watching him sink in. “I’ll ask Maze to drop by and check if you need patching up.”

“I’m absolutely fine.” Lucifer flapped his hand airily. Despite feeling a little like he’d been processed by a combine harvester, this was, of course, the honest truth. He’d only a vague ringing in his ears and his ribs felt like they were already knitting back into place. In terms of his mood, moreover, he’d transformed from despairing to exuberant in scarcely five minutes of being thrashed. His sentiments toward his brother currently verged upon… well, brotherly. If he’d only a little less dignity, he would have asked Amenadiel to stay. He might even have said “please.”

Too late for that, though. Amenadiel was already in the elevator. “We’ll talk about this another time,” he said, then the doors closed and he was gone.

Lucifer let out a long, shuddering sigh. Okay, he’d held back a little… maybe a lot… in that fight, and he really wasn’t bad at faking poorly. Nevertheless, Amenadiel could still—just about—beat the shit out of him. So maybe, just maybe, his big bro’ could still pull out the big guns when they were needed. Amenadiel had his back. Amenadiel could at least do _something_ protect the Detective and her spawn, Ella, Linda, and all the others, if anything catastrophic happened to him.

Although he didn’t care about any of that. He could watch his own back and protect his humans alone. He’d just picked a fight to shut the bastard up and let off some steam, _honest_ he had.

Lucifer straightened his dishevelled waistcoat, tutted over a tear in his shirt cuff, and wandered over to the bar. He poured himself a glass of twenty-one-year-old, oak-barrel-matured-single-malt whisky, which had fortuitously survived the brawl. He savoured the taste as it blended with the tang of his blood.

_Lovely._


End file.
